The Sorting Hat's Headache
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: The Sorting Hat has a headache. "Leave me in peace, Albus," he growled. "I'm on strike today." Unfortunately, it's just before Harry's Sorting, and the Hat is really in a bad mood. Totally stupid drabble, completely AU. Characters: Hat, Fawkes, Snape


**The Sorting Hat's Headache**

#Wakey-wakey, you dirty old rag,# Fawkes trilled to the Sorting Hat, slowly raising his voice when the Hat didn't show any reaction.

"Now that's enough, Fawkes," Dumbledore lightly scolded his familiar and stepped over to the shelf, on which the Hat was sitting on his stool. "What's wrong with you? You know that the Welcoming Feast is going to begin in a few minutes, don't you?" he queried in a soft voice.

"Leave me in peace, Albus," the Hat growled. "I'm on strike today."

"No, you're not," Dumbledore replied firmly. "Well, I need to leave. As you know, Minerva will come to fetch you in a short while." With that the Headmaster left his office.

Fawkes remained on his seat, chuckling. #What has bitten you today, you filthy old piece of cloth?#

"Oh, just shut up, you feathered duster. I have such a splitting headache, which I haven't had in two hundred years," the Hat groaned, closing his eyes again.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall entered the Headmaster's office and fetched the Sorting Hat along with his stool.

#Have fun,# Fawkes shouted and flashed ahead into the Great Hall, where he made himself comfortable on one of the torches, apparently sensing that the Sorting Hat was in no mood to properly do his work.

The Hat mumbled something incoherent when McGonagall placed him on his stool. Noticing that everyone was looking at him in expectation to hear his newest song, he opened his large cramp and said impatiently, "Tonight I'm going to vote for House unity. Let the Sorting begin already."

Everyone threw him a surprised look, but the Hat couldn't care less. '_I'll show you what House unity is_,' he thought as a sharp pain shot through his head when McGonagall picked him up. "Carefully please; that hurt," he hissed in a small voice, causing the professor to give him a sharp look.

"Bones, Susan," McGonagall called, and the first student sat down on the stool.

"Hufflepuff," the Hat shouted as soon as he could feel the girl's hair touch his skin. '_I don't want to be touched today_,' he mused, shuddering.

"Boot, Terry."

"Hufflepuff."

"Brocklehurst, Mandy."

"Hufflepuff."

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

"Hufflepuff."

"Crabbe, Vincent."

'_He is too stupid for anything. He just has to learn something here_.' "Ravenclaw."

"Finnigan, Seamus."

"Hufflepuff."

"Goyle, Gregory."

'_Oh no; another complete dunderhead_.' "Ravenclaw."

"Granger, Hermione."

'_Well, I'll at least try to do my best. She feels very eager_,' he mused and shouted, "Slytherin."

As the Sorting dragged on, the Hat noticed that his headache got worse by each student he had to sort.

"Longbottom, Neville."

'_Just leave me in peace. Well, he'll do greatly_.' "Slytherin."

"Malfoy, Draco."

"Gryffindor." '_Oh, I think I'm going to be sick_.'

"Parkinson, Pansy."

'_Well, they'll at least fit well together, united in the House_.' "Gryffindor."

"Potter, Harry."

'_A trio; how nice_.' "Slytherin."

"Thomas, Dean."

"Hufflepuff."

"Weasley, Ronald."

'_Another kid of that kind, oh no_.' "Ravenclaw."

"Zabini, Blaise."

'_He'll do well for the House unity_.' "Hufflepuff."

Finally, he had managed to sort the last student and sank back on his stool in relief. However, his peace shouldn't last too long. A very angry Head of Gryffindor brought him back into the Headmaster's office and shoved him back to his position on the shelf. '_Finally_,' the Hat thought and closed his eyes in relief, noticing that Fawkes was absent for once.

Two hours later, angry voices interrupted his slumber.

"Albus, we can't accept such a Sorting," McGonagall said indignantly. "He merely sorted Death Eater children into my House."

"How dare that stupid old piece of cloth sort everyone except for Potter," he spat the word, "a Muggleborn and a dunderhead that was clearly designated to be sorted into Gryffindor, into Hufflepuff?" Snape hissed at the Headmaster, glaring daggers at the Sorting Hat.

"I merely sorted the students where I deemed it necessary, alas with special regard to the House unity," the Sorting Hat replied in an annoyed voice and straightened itself in his shelf, trying to unobtrusively shake some dust off. "Concerning the three students I put into Slytherin," he continued haughtily, "I merely made this decision out of the knowledge that they will do great things in the future. Once in the future, you will be extremely grateful to have these three people in your House."

"Thank you," Snape replied evenly, slightly inclining his head.

"I'd appreciate if you could show your gratitude by giving me a headache potion," the Hat answered, looking down at the Potions Master.

"How Slytherin of you," Snape commended the Hat, smirking, as he spelled the contents of a phial into the Hat.

"Well, of course I'm a Slytherin. Why else would I sort Harry Potter into Slytherin? And now leave me in peace for another year."

**The End**

_I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes._

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._


End file.
